


Always Alone

by myhomeistheshire



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:53:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhomeistheshire/pseuds/myhomeistheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission goes wrong and Ward takes a bullet, leaving Skye to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skye

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm aware that this is a very short, not very detailed ficlet. I tend to write fics more on 'impressions' rather than actual ideas. I may or may not continue this, but if I do it'll be more detailed I promise.
> 
> Also, the song I listened to while writing this is called Hazy by Rosi Golan feat. William Fitzsimmons, in case you feel like listening along to that while you read.

No, no, no no nononononono.

 

The crack of gunfire, the shouting.

 

This can’t be happening.

 

The flash of red.

 

And then he’s falling and she’s never felt this empty before, not when her foster parents gave her up, not when she’d realized that her parents didn’t want her.

 

Never, never this alone.

 

She falls to the ground, unable to support the weight. Don’t leave. She gasps to an empty room, to the cold air around her where his arms used to be. Don’t leave me here alone. And then she breaks down, in the back of a cement storage facility, with the cold flirting against her skin and the pain in her heart so much heavier than the wounds on her arms.

 

And then she stands up. Wipes away her tears and struggles through the pain. How can she do it? Stay on her feet, through the memories tearing her down? Because she has to. She takes one step at a time, leaving it - leaving him behind. One step, then another, then another. And the pain does not dull, but it becomes easier to hide without becoming easier to bear.

 

She steps into the control room. If he was there, he would’ve stood there and raised an eyebrow, asked her why she was late. She’d hear the concern in his voice as he saw the dirt on her face, the wounds on her arms. The ghosts of tears along her face from an eternity ago. But instead, it’s them, looking, wondering. But she can’t say the words, can’t force a sound from her throat. And she sees recognition dawning, the awful realization. And then Simmons collapses, but Fitz catches her, because he always does. May and Coulson don’t look away, but they freeze, stopped in a neverending echo of pain. Skye knows what that feels like. She’s felt it ever since she saw the red splatter across his chest, the blankness in his eyes as he fell to his knees. It’s only been an hour but it’s been a thousand years, and Skye doesn’t know how much longer she can hold this. She wants to cry, or scream, but she can’t. Can’t force the sounds out of her throat without knowing that she’ll ever be able to stop. And wouldn’t it be such a release just to stop - stop breathing, stop thinking, stop moving. Just fall beside him, red on red, skin on skin.

 

She goes back to her bunker, sits on the bed. The bed that he’d sat on the other night, when he’d come in to apologize for his harsh words, explain why he didn’t mean it, ask for her forgiveness. She’d given it, of course she had. Because when had she not been able to forgive him, when every moment next to him was better than anything before? And she presses her face to the pillow and tries to catch his scent but there’s nothing, as if he’d never even existed. Her eyes are dry then, and why isn’t she crying, shouldn’t she be? Shouldn’t this ache in her chest that’s much, much too heavy for one person to carry be able to make her cry? Because she can’t feel and she feels too much, she’s strong and she can’t stand on her own. And maybe this was a nightmare, but even she couldn’t think up this numbness spreading through her. And she curls up on the bed because all of a sudden she can’t support her own weight. And maybe, someday, this will be better. But she can’t imagine what that will feel like.

 

She doesn’t fall asleep. There are too many nightmares already.


	2. Ward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward prepares for the hardest thing he's ever had to do: fake his death in order to save the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so when I came up with the idea for this fic I wasn't going to continue it, but even though I'm a sucker for sad endings I just couldn't leave it like that. However, this chapter is more detail and less abstract writing so the style's a little different.

Ward hadn’t wanted to do this, wished he could get around it somehow, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent had made it very clear: everyone thinks he dies, or they all do. It’s just for a day, he tells himself, they’ll be fine. I’ll make it up to them.

 

But then he thinks of Skye and he knows what this will do to her, and he prays that she’ll forgive him for this unforgiveable sin. Because if it was her, he doesn’t know what he would do. He thinks of the way she looked when he was saying those awful things back on the plane, how she shrank back and the hurt look on her face suddenly making her look so much smaller. And he hates himself for it, for hurting her like that, but now here he is, doing it again.

 

The plan is simple: he carries a few pebble-like devices in his chest pocket that will go off in an explosion of red when the time is right. After Skye has left, he’ll sneak back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. camp. They’ll be watching the bus, they’ll see the reactions. That’s why he can’t tell anyone. And then he’ll break into their base and destroy the weapon while their guard is down.

 

Simple. He tries to make himself think of this the way he usually does, black-and-white. He does this or they die. It’s an easy choice, but for some reason this job he thinks will be the hardest thing he’s ever done for S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

The plan works. They break into the facility, but they were expected. Ward knew this. The cameras and listening devices were too many to count, too many to find. He guides Skye through a large storage warehouse, and then, when the soldiers are in sight, the devices go off. It doesn’t hurt, not even hitting the concrete floor because all he can hear is Skye’s scream. And then an awful silence. The S.H.I.E.L.D. team has the soldiers covered, but he still wants her to go, needs her to leave because the sound of her sobbing beside him is the most painful, raw thing he’s ever heard and he can barely stop himself from moving to comfort her. “ _Don’t leave_.” She gasps out. “ _Don’t leave me here alone_.”

 

And then she’s gone, and he should be glad but instead he’s left with an aching chest and her words imprinted in his mind. And he can’t see how they can ever go back to the way they were after this.

 

He follows the plan, but his heart isn’t in it any longer. All he can hear is _don’t leave me here alone_ as he takes out guard after guard, but the rage doesn’t help, it never does. She knew that, of course. Sometimes he thought she knew things about him he didn’t know himself. And then he reaches the room with the weapon. It should be difficult, taking out three armed guards and then planting a bomb under it, but he does it without a hitch. And then his rib is grazed and his arm is bruised but he didn’t even notice it happen. He watches the base explode, into a landscape of dust and rubble and screams. And then he heads toward the bus, and this is the part that makes him hesitate, falter in his step. Because he doesn’t know what kind of reception he’s going to get, not after doing this to them.

 

He finally opens the door to the control room and steps inside.


	3. Ward

They’re shocked, amazed, happy. Simmons all but tackles him, and Fitz is laughing and blowing his nose and even Coulson and May are looking a little teary-eyed. And he can’t believe how quickly they’ve forgiven him, without even an explanation. But there’s still one person missing.

 

“Where’s Skye?” He can see their excitement dim when he asks. There’s a silence, long and terrifying, before May answers.

 

“She’s not doing so well.” She says in her calm, even voice, but even that can’t hide the flash of worry in her eyes. Ward’s heart sinks. Of course she wouldn’t be, not after what he’d done.

 

“Where is she?”

 

“Her room.” This time, Coulson speaks up. “She hasn’t left since she got back from the mission.” Ward almost doesn’t want to see her, see the damage he’s done, but of course he goes anyway. He’ll have to do the best he can to repair the damage, even if she hates him after this.

 

Her door is closed, and he doesn’t hear anything behind it, just a silence greater than any noise could be. He pushes it open, lets light from the hallway enter the dark room. She’s curled up on the bed, but she isn’t sleeping. Her eyes are open, but Ward knows from experience that she isn’t seeing. Her arms are covered in bullet wounds. Grazes, but painful ones. _I did this_. Is all he can think as he looks at her, curled into a ball and shaking from the memories. “Skye.” He says, but it comes out as just a breath. He repeats it again, and again and again, cradling her in his arms. _Please, wake up. Please, forgive me._


	4. Skye

She’s stuck in a world without sleeping. It used to be that she was afraid of the nightmares, but now it’s that she’s stuck in one. She can’t move, can’t think, can barely breathe. She hasn’t eaten but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters. May came in before she thinks, but her words were a blur. Skye can’t focus on anything, not while she has those images in her head - so much red, so much everywhere. She hadn’t thought it possible for that much blood to be in a person. Gunshots, screams, cold pavement biting into hands. Her screams, shrill and foreign in her ears. If she focuses on the details she can almost forget him falling to the ground, limp there as she shook him. Wake up, she’d thought, but instead she’d said don’t leave, as if he wasn’t already gone.

Her door clicks open. She doesn’t care. She still can’t move, and to look up at May or Coulson or whoever’s standing there is to open herself up to the possibility that it was real, it had happened. The thump of bones hitting pavement, the blood caked under her nails. Details. Details are what she needs. Frost, creeping over the metal racks. The stomping of military boots. Orders, shouted. Her heart, thumping in her ears even when she wished it would stop.

And then someone is whispering her name, gently, carefully, and she knows that voice, but it’s impossible. But she looks up and suddenly, it isn’t.

“Grant?”

And she can’t think but then she’s in his arms and it’s warmth and comfort and home, and it’s like a splinter being pulled out of her because she’s crying and laughing and she can’t stop. “I’m so sorry,” he says, but what does he have to be sorry for? “You’re alive.” Is all she can make out, but she can see he doesn’t believe her and so she lets go of all her inhibitions and worries and pulls him to her until their lips touch.

“I love you.” 

She doesn’t know who says it. She doesn’t have to.


End file.
